by John Wester
She writes me notes packed with my lunch--
Sweet nothings--signs them with a heart.
I'm her loving honey-bunch,
She's my lovely, wicked tart
Who keeps me guessing when she's gone
And drives me nuts but drives me on--
Her wild pansy, pink-eyed-john.
COME THE REVOLUTION
You won't believe how rich you'll be,
When the revolution ends.
And I'm not talking spiritually--
You won't believe how many friends
You'll have, because they'll all have time
And stress-free life to open up.
Suspicions gone, and gone the crime,
Bye-bye like the Dixie cup--
Buried garbage. And work becomes
A thing you do because you care.
Gone the castles, gone the slums;
We choose the bosses, ones who're fair.
The only problem that I see
Is, what'll it take to get that free?
The world won't last much longer,
And no one's doing shit about it.
Those in power getting stronger;
Power. They can't live without it.
Power as in politics,
Power as in rule;
Power as in dirty tricks;
Power as in fuel
To run the factories that they own,
Their farms and means to ship the goods;
Fly the bombers, jets or drone
To wipe out hostile neighborhoods.
Oh my, what's it going to take
For folks to get an even break?
When my kids made happy sounds,
I relaxed and smiled.
But when they fought, crossed certain bounds,
I lost it--like a child.
My wife thinks what is wrong with me
When it comes to memory,
Is Alzheimer's. She may be right,
I just thought it's CRS.
I can't remember shit. I might
Forget a face, a name, and guess
Where in the world I knew them from--
A senior moment and I've had some.
CHENEY TO BUSH
The fragility of lies,
Lies with lie's complexities;
You've got to look them in the eyes
To avoid admission fees
When you know they have a clue--
You tell them what they hope is true
And pray to God that they believe
The threads of sticky lies you weave.
The bourgeoisie just can't believe
That they don't do their share.
They're busy bees, and can't conceive
Themselves as drones and dare
To think that if it weren't for them
No one would have a job to do;
That services and goods all stem
From their money seeing through
The management from start to end.
It's their money, after all,
It's them on whom we all depend.
Without the money, systems stall--
The money's theirs and don't forget,
Paychecks keep you out of debt.
WHEN LOVE BECOMES A JOB
Hard fucking those who bust your balls--
Goes for women, well as men.
Honeymoon at Niagara falls
A long, long way down from the ten
Your interest was when courting you--
Telling you, now, what to do.
SONNET TO THE PIGS WHO FLY
The fantasies of pigs and dogs
Can carry them away.
Women, populating logs
In their minds, would say,
Not even do they have no chance
(Their dreams of coming true)--
She'll fall back with each advance
Men make to cop a screw
From women who they think they know--
Romeo, you don't.
It's when they think that it's a go,
And the women won't,
They either act surprised and hurt,
Or angry their dick's in the dirt.
The Universe, I think, is God,
And we on earth are but a part--
Some worshipping a mighty fraud
That's standing in for soul and heart.
Can't use ourselves as an example
When we're trying to raise our kids.
No wonder parents need the ample
Morality aids--each one forbids
Doing what they've done themselves.
Mohammed, Jesus, Joseph Smith,
Fairies, gremlins, and evil elves.
Behavioral guides--an ancient myth
Does more good at getting through
Than having to explain away
All the stupid things we do
Almost every goddamned day.
Do as we say, we tell the kids,
But look away when God forbids.
Myth of lemmings' suicide
Has roots in human history;
Happened before and people died--
It's no goddamn mystery
Why they did it--times were cruel.
But now the suicides are planned--
Single acts, a powerful tool
To draw attention to the hand
That's crushing them--attention from
The people in the world who get
It now, and maybe dumb
Ones who haven't got it yet,
Will realize what's going on--
The mythical peaceful days are gone.
I've have learned to look away,
Passing someone in the hall.
Way too friendly, I say, hey,
They look at me and make a call,
A jaded, jaundiced referee--
Judgment call they make on me.
Drawn into conversations
In your mind when you're alone,
Imagining your new relations
Chewing issues to the bone.
Presto! Settled, said and done,
In your mind, again, you've won.
The time we choose to worship people,
Religion's failed--too much to bear--
Desertions from the mosque, the steeple,
The temple where we used to care.
Desertions to the ones who lead
To action that will change the world;
Actions where the people bleed;
Actions where a flag's unfurled--
Some misguided, others crushed
By the powers holding on.
Atrocities, or actions rushed--
Chances pushed and chances gone.
Leaders worshipped as if God--
And likely, just as much a fraud.
Hussein, Bin Laden, my oh my,
Let's roll it back some more:
Noriega, same type of guy;
Idi Amin--another score,
Picking on the weak small fry
To profit on another war.
Life's not fair. You got that right--
Never get back what you give.
Those not trying to make life right,
Might not have much right to live.
NO MORE HOKEY POKEY
Alone, a night of karaoke
Machine she's got at home
With her love songs. Okey-dokey,
Won't expect the shiny chrome
And lights and adoration
In her song fest alienation.
But she, at least, avoids the hokey
Lines sailed over brewery foam.
They love the social drama,
They're handy with a cell.
Talk non-stop without a comma,
And listen to retell
The stories--their stock and trade--
Their wealth in knowing who's been played.
A CASE FOR SUICIDE
There's two ways to change the world,
There's reason, then there's force.
The second's when a flag's unfurled
And violence takes its course.
Reason's not the rage these days
And all the force is in the hands
Of nations that can simply raze
A city...when a rocket lands
On a hospital, simply, tough.
What forces do the people use?
To say the least, it's lighter stuff.
Except today they use a fuse
For setting off a bomb around
Somebody who would rather die
Than seeing more jets kicking down
Resources used to get folks by:
Water; fuel; sewage; shelter--
Blown to bits, spewn helter-skelter.
Nowhere safe, no place to hide;
To serve a cause is suicide--
All the reason in their head
Says it's better if they're dead.
Hoping I'll get through the night,
IN SIX CLICHES
FOR A SHIFTLESS DREAMER
Believing I'm still on the path;
But missing signals left and right,
Having yet to do the math
For getting from point A to B--
That could take some work, you see.
SUICIDE LOSES ITS GLAMOUR
Cheerless, put it to his head.
Heartless, cocked the hammer.
A single bullet counts him dead.
A fired bullet doesn't stammer
When it whistles through the brain--
Cares less if it leaves a stain.
THE CRISIS OF COMPETITION
Competition cons the other
& THE STRAIN ON SUPPORT
Into buying up their story.
Cooperation has no mother,
Orphaned in a world of glory
For the winners--losers gain
Nothing, still they feel the pain.
BUSH TO CABINET
Fuck Democracy when we're right.
Everybody needs to know
We're here for them both day and night--
People have to let things go:
Like freedom from; and freedom to;
And doing what they used to do,
When our country's dire straights
Are leading to the pearly gates.
Fear of living has behind
It, fear of dying, no?
The two are deftly intertwined.
Bit by bit we're letting go
The love of life we had before--
Seeing children off to war.
There's no death in dying
When a person wants to live.
You're not thinking death, you're trying
Not to leak blood like a sieve,
Or just to get another breath,
No way giving into death--
Survivors, all, we're born to hate
Death, even if life's not that great.
If ever a fly was on the wall,
It was them without six legs.
Never a word, they'd make the call--
No matter how much the logic begs
They'd keep it to themselves until
The party started getting shrill.
By then, too late, the damage done
Went on to ruin a little fun.
TV & ALIENATION
Heart can see into the heart,
The mind into the mind.
If you can't tell the two apart,
You might as well be blind
Trying to think how people feel,
Or feeling something that's not real.
TCP/IP & THE WWW--OPTIMISTIC
The Internet's a communist plot
To get the people talking;
I'm kidding, but I kid you not
The Net has dead men walking
For the lies they've told that kept
The power theirs while we all slept.
It's finally dawned. Yes, they've got you.
Someone's going to have to pay.
Makes no difference what you do,
You'll be doing what they say.
Too scared to look, afraid to die--
They calm you with a comfort lie.
If you don't want to get involved,
If I were you, start acting dumb.
While the problems get resolved
Better sit and suck a thumb,
Take no risks and take no side--
But either way, a bumpy ride.
BEFORE AND AFTER
What the preachers there have over
Is, when they promise fields of clover,
They will always make it clear
That you get it when you die--
Crudely put, pie in the sky.
Revies, on the other hand,
Say you first must make a stand--
No one's going to land in clover
Until the revolution's over.
Everybody dies. It's clear
That preachers have that going here.
CONSEQUENCES OF A SHAMEFUL WORLD
There were things that Georgie wouldn't
Touch without a glove.
There were words that Georgie couldn't
Say without a shove.
Georgie had been wound too tightly
By a subtle, slow hand, nightly.
MOSES GO UNDER
Old Testament--survivor rules
If surviving God's great wrath--
Taught in all religious schools.
No way of fixing what God hath
Put asunder--the world's a mess
And God is doing nothing, yes?
LOVE CONQUERS ALL
The sky is blue, the breeze is fine,
My honey's eyes gave me a sign
Telling me that it's all good--
Still good in our neighborhood.
Ah yes, get attention off
What's really going on.
Bad news--another warning cough
That another freedom's gone.
Carry on the booze no more,
No duty-free convenience store.
Kiss your ass goodbye if you
Think the system's going to last.
We'll all die before it's through--
All the sands of time get glassed
By a blast that sets us back.
And if we survive at all,
Belongings will fit in a sack.
All the hopes you once had fall:
Now hoping for a source for water;
Distance from sectarian feud;
Hope soldiers leave alone your daughter;
You hope you're able to get food.
Civil war's an ugly thing--
But it's what all class systems bring.
OLD MAN AT WORK, TEACHING
He only wants to see it work--
Old man's been around so long
He never takes shit from a jerk
Who's getting everything so wrong.
Might take months, but he'll get back
All what's lost and what it cost him.
You piss him off, he'll see you sacked--
Doesn't matter if you bossed him--
Old man rarely meets his equal,
And he's gone against the worst
Son of a bitch--and every sequel
Has the old man come out first.
Gets tired but he won't retire
While there's kids left to inspire.
Who doesn't want to bring it down?
AND OTHER PARASITIC OCCUPATIONS
Provocateurs work on the stings;
Spies, informants, go to town--
Conjure up the plots and rings.
Telling more than what they hear,
They keep their jobs by boosting fear.
IF WISHES WERE HORSES,
Not like dealing with the dishes,
BEGGARS WOULD RIDE.
Dealing with the issues you
Can't resolve with all the wishes
Made where you don't have to do
A fucking thing, just have to wait
And all the problems turn out great.
FATHER AND SON
Four shots in, the tears began--
Son had stabbed him in the back.
Four shots in, a crying man
Told about his son's attack
On his goddamned bank account.
Shiftless son stole his check book
And forged some checks, a good amount.
He booked a room for what it took
To get a shower--he'd bought some clothes.
Before he'd ever get a job,
Cleaning up his act, he blows
Off his father, he'd rather rob
And be called a worthless jerk
Than have to beg a job and work.
He's been messing with your head--
Telling you there's nothing wrong.
The dirty truth is put to bed,
And he's made sure you go along
With the twisted pleasures he
Traps you with before he's gone.
Guilt gives him his liberty--
He returns and you're withdrawn.
Fear and guilt have kept him going
Down the secret garden path.
Reality, somewhere, is knowing
Truth and Uncle need a bath.
While he walks, you take the fall--
Like network news, it's been his call.
MY LOYAL DOG, RHYME
Kinship, friends and neighbors scoff,
Delusional, they think sometimes--
Thinking I'm just beating off
Writing doggerel, simple rhymes.
Me? I think that there's a chance
That I'll earn kudos with rhyme--
Lucky gets a second glance.
Could be rhyme's a waste of time:
Dull form, short words, lame clichés--
Uneven rhythms falling flat,
A crippled four to five beat phrase.
Me? I think that I'll fix that,
Watch my clumsy puppy grow--
What the fuck do my friends know?
I'm being productive writing rhymes,
I say while getting all fucked up.
I call my muses, but there're times
I can't believe what I've sucked up
To reach a state I call the zone,
Where I give up thoughts I own.
GUILT WITH ANGER
I fuck up, I know I do.
We all fuck up and you do too.
I'll forgive you getting mad
Except the times you think I'm bad.
Across from me she caught the tear
With her napkin--daubed her eye--
She didn't let the makeup smear.
I didn't need to ask her why
She was crying, I knew full well
The reason why the teardrop fell.
What shut my mouth, I have no clue,
But I've always been a mute.
Don't talk too much and when I do
I think that all I do is shoot
Toes off my feet and to this day
Can't get behind the things I say--
It's either dumb, or so unclear,
It's nothing you would want to hear.
You think it, but don't say it.
Keep to yourself the things you've seen
And heard--that's because you weigh it
Against the fact that it would mean
Making an effort to share your thoughts
Which usually have you tied in knots.
Ran out of steam, gave up and quit--
She wasn't weak but tired
Of dealing with his angry shit
That seemed to be required
To be his wife. She gave him what
He wanted getting little back;
Bent over backwards, kissed his butt--
Yet dead to her when in the sack.
Then there was another man,
She almost left him--came back when
He found her out, shit hit the fan--
Then cried to get her back again.
Cried real tears, down on his knees,
Baby, I'll change, stay with me, please.
Nothing short of killing them
Would make a woman stop
Talking about what they condemn
In men who stay on top--
The ones who tell them what to do.
If they've a friend, friend surely knows
All there is to know of you--
Nose hair to your ugly toes.
The stories certainly will include
The way you fuck, how much you fart.
Exactly how you chew your food--
They work the details in like art.
Give it up, they want it sweet--
Sisterhood is on the street.
NATURAL BORN COMMUNISTS
I do believe we've been hard wired
In our brains to share with others;
Cooperation's not acquired--
Natural as our nursing mothers.
Survival of the species means
Nurturing--not counting beans.
What shorts our wires, kicks our ass,
Is all about a ruling class.
WHAT KEEPS US GOING:
Dreams, it's dreams, it's always dreams--
Prayers, when you're religious.
To stop dreams breaking at the seams,
Especially if prodigious,
Learn patience--that is what you need
To ever see a dream succeed.
Be truthful when the world's corrupt?
Now that could be a dangerous act.
The ending of your life's abrupt--
Or at least you could get sacked.
The truth won't get you anywhere.
The world's corrupt, why should you care?
Never lost a fight, he claims.
Of course he chose them all.
Of course he lost, but then he blames
The loss on someone's call.
Either way, he doesn't lose--
He just tightens down the screws.
Someone's pinned down with the blame--
Production, sales, tech support?
Accusations all the same.
At the top they're holding court--
Deciding over drinks and cheese,
Who is next to get the squeeze?
What's wrong to ask to get along?
Nothing. But we're never there.
The infantry, itself, is strong
Because it does--and that is where
It gets its strength. And why can't we
Get along and learn to be
There for others--taking care
That everybody has a prayer?
Couldn't reach her, she was where
An angel couldn't touch her.
You thought you could and thought your care
Would put her past behind her.
Except that you knew zip about
Her troubles with the last boy scout.
I had no clue
What I would do
When you touched my hand
The other day--
Except to pray
That when I stood I'd stand
Steady enough to walk away
From trouble and your sweet bouquet.
Another chance to get it right,
There you were, flesh and desire.
And in the dream you dared invite
Me back to shades of stolen fire,
Unlike the times we spent together--
Slow talk on indifferent weather.
RAPE ALL AROUND
Children crying, mothers yelling,
The bully screaming at the bitch;
Situations daily spelling
Out it's reached a fever pitch--
This mess we're in, and no escape,
Suffering different kinds of rape.
SALES, THE OLDEST PROFESSION
As long as I am housed and fed,
I think that's all I need.
I think that I'd be rather dead
Than hope that I succeed
At being on the lips of those,
In retrospect, were marks I chose.
She was seldom asked to play,
And she was just too shy--
All the music went away
From the house somewhere to die.
Zapped once by a lightning bolt;
Sat down on a rattlesnake
While on acid--double jolt;
But only time I saw her break
Were times when no one understood
The care it takes to make times good.
THE NEIGHBOR NEXT DOOR
Too much work to keep it clean
When doesn't have the time.
Living loud and living mean,
Decisions turning on a dime.
Works at night, exotic dancer,
Her lap dance could cast a spell.
She's the flirty necromancer
Who drags his sorry ass through hell.
Works to keep her home life hid
Apart from her up on the stage.
At home she tries to raise a kid,
But she's always in a rage--
Screaming at her boy or men
Who get one over once again.
People think you've given up
On everything, except one thing--
The liquor you've got in your cup
To soften what daylight will bring
Each morning handing you the shakes--
Half-pint's least of what it takes
To get you through another day
Of boredom. But who am I to say?
Every kind of flag's unfurled.
What are you going to follow?
Take a good look at the world.
How much can you swallow?
Time to empty out your thoughts,
And put aside the world around you
Which has tied you up in knots--
Decide on something you can do
To get beneath the mystery that
Is on the path and smells of scat.
So dumb, must be intuitive--
He makes the fucker work.
Outcome is superlative,
But from a dumbass jerk.
How does he do it? Must be luck.
Has to be. He's one dumb fuck.
OH, LORD, FIRE/DIVORCE/BANISH ME
I'm in charge, do as I say,
And come here for some loving.
I own you, it's done my way--
It's me who does the shoving
Decision time, or making love,
The choices I make from above.
FORM AND CONTENT
Capitalizing each first word
Of a line that ends in rhyme,
Is the dumbest thing I've heard,
Throwing readers back in time
To when men did clip-on bow-ties
In cheap attempts to formalize.
LOVE FOR A NAG
When you were gone I supersized
Our dreams and thought of you;
I didn't miss you. You surprised?
You gone, all I had to do
Is simple: act like you were here--
Clean up my mess and watch the beer.
MY KARAOKE BABY
She just started. Gets off key--
But she's working on it.
Karaoke home's where she
Is singing someone's sonnet--
I love you baby,
Can't take my eyes off of you,
And some day maybe
You'll make your grand debut
Singing at karaoke bars,
Where everyone's your friend,
Where people sing like they were stars,
Wishing nights there wouldn't end.
You're just too good to be true.
I can't take my eyes off of you.
THAT MAY BE
Can't beat the life of bourgeoisie.
Problems? The coin takes care of it.
We smile at their misery
When getting their small share of it.
Maybe faith can save your soul,
But souls die maybe as we do--
Burned or buried in a hole,
And skeptics maybe ask of you
When do we get to all the bliss?
You answer, maybe, when we die--
This life on earth no one will miss.
So it's your faith that gets you by.
But if you're rich, you maybe say
That bliss is bought on any day.
YOU CAN BE RICH
Even you, they say, can be
Rich, if you just work at it.
And you can win the lottery
As long, of course, you never quit
Playing the game. The question's why
We think it's good to reach that high?
Chances for success the same--
Reasons for trying, truly lame.
Success sucks, a simple ruse
To keep the system going.
The myth of it is fueled on booze,
Drugs, and what they're throwing
At you on TV all day.
Success, you think is going to pay;
Success described on your TV
Is fucking with reality.
True success is quiet as
The stars without the razzmatazz.
True success is living well
Without letting your shit smell.
You kick me out of bed the times
I snore, and I head for the couch;
It's things like that I think what primes
The pump for making me a grouch.
I know baby, I'm not the best--
A grumpy old man, you've told me so.
But me, I think that I've been blessed.
You're looking out for us, I know.
Like when you tell me what to do,
Getting me off my ass a plus--
But lay grumpiness all on you
Every time you make a fuss.
Because you're right, I stay in line--
Hell-bent otherwise. You're divine.
Might think you had a shitty life--
Most of it your parent's fault.
You married a fucked-up husband/wife,
A partner hardly worth their salt--
Like your parents, living on
Big dreams that have come and gone.
Or maybe it worked out for you.
Possible. I know a few.
She thinks I'm something, why else could she
Stand my farts and bad memory?
Why'd she ever marry me?
Unless the reason is, you see,
There's nothing else, her life is fucked--
Her last choice has really sucked.
GETTING HIGH ON
Substance takes me calmly to it--
Lets me know I've got it right.
Otherwise I can't get through it--
I need substance for some light
On the situations that
I've seen before, blind as a bat.
Substance though, can be abused--
With Feuerbach, much overused.
TO JACK FROM A
Disease is taking up your time--
SELFISH OLD FRIEND
Not to mention every dime.
I think you're thinking that you've got
Nothing for us left to give;
Giving up the battles fought--
Makes no difference if you live.
Look at me. Can't let you go,
Suicide is just dead wrong.
(Excuse the pun.) And you should know,
You have always kept us strong
With the fix-ups that you've done
For everyone--besides the fun.
Just joking Jack. Once more you will
Do what's right, I'm with you still.
FOR OUR SINS, MY ASS
Sins seem close as yesterday--
Closer, the longer I live:
The sucker punch, the times I'd stray;
The times I could but wouldn't give;
The careless love, forgotten friends--
Until you die shame never ends.
THE NATIONAL DEBT
Its ownership is vapor--
Blowing up your ass.
Fuck the debt, it's paper
Held by the ruling class.
I didn't turn conservative,
Just careful as the rabbits;
Organic, this preservative,
For keeping all my habits
To be free--live in the shade,
And underground I've got it made.
Just behind the leading edge,
Safe behind the blade
And way behind the bleeding edge--
Party-down or staid--
The ruling class enjoys the fruits
Of always having fresh recruits
To do the work--they've suits and grunts
Who have it covered on all fronts.
NACHO AND CORTEZ
Who are you Nacho, what's beneath
Your smile's complicated look?
Your lips shyly show us teeth--
Averted eyes hint of a book.
Janitor. Cleans up our mess.
Ignacio. Job's never less.
Won't say much, he keeps it small
When saying anything at all.
Good job, Nacho, someone says.
Muchas gracias, Don Cortez.
Boredom. Go for drugs or booze--
Or at least a cigarette;
Worse, turn on TV to news,
Or a sitcom--trip to get
Away from what's up in your face--
Ninety percent of the human race.
Thinking lots on death these days--
You maybe dwell on endings too
Unless you're blessed, gaze at the haze
Of youthful things you've left to do.
Seen too much and grown too old--
The only thing left to unfold
Is death, I see it everywhere--
Looks back at me--indifferent stare.
Why, you ask me, would I lie?
You require one is why.
Your anger, baby's why I lie.
What? You think I want to die?
Lived long enough to learn that what
I once saw as a vision(-
Or revelation(-cracked my nut
And added to division
Of the human race to parts
At which the kings are throwing darts.
You know that Bush is playing trump
When he's bringing up class war.
But it makes the liberals jump
Back in line like as before.
Liberals have as much to lose
As the Cheney's jacked on booze.
Too needy, you want attention
You should have gotten long ago.
The mother of invention
Is getting old and tells you so--
There it is, up on the shelf,
It's time you reach it by yourself.
But can the drama, make a plan,
Takes more than bombs to get the man.
I know a man who's kind and good--
Not a mean bone in his body;
He'll pray beneath a cross of wood;
Simple prayers amidst the gaudy
Life before him, ever after--
Treasures in it soulful laughter.
A brilliant man who lives for God,
Me, his friend, thinks god's a fraud.
You once said I'm getting fat--
You weren't being mean, just cheeky.
I had to let it go at that.
But wait until your knees go creaky--
Maybe then, won't be so fast
At judging what the waistline passed.
AGNOSTIC ROLLING DICE
Would you let me into heaven
If there were one, may I ask?
Or have I thrown, last throw, a seven--
Crapped out, thinking I could mask
My faithless life with my good works--
Ending up with heaven's perks?
NATALIA FROM RUSSIA NEEDS HER DEGREE
Behind her glasses, cautious eyes;
There's hesitation to her smile;
Blonde hair up, her clothes disguise
And dignify her body. While
Dreams and classes serve ambition,
She struggles with abject submission.
The world is different now that she
Decided she needs her degree.
I've forgotten how to fuck,
Or maybe it's forgotten me.
Someone comes on--just my luck
I get to thinking nothing's free--
My dick drops dead in the dirt
Thinking someone's getting hurt.
You want it? OK, better ask
Instead of talking shit.
Candy ass is going to mask
The badness with a bit
The boss is God, and rules supreme--
Can't do nothing but you dream.
Don't ask boss, boss pimping for
The system that makes you a whore.
SONNET TO IMPERIALISM
Enemy combatant, what a name,
Defying all convention.
No way will they treat the same
The ones held in detention.
These combatants don't fight fair,
Speech writers for the parties say,
So why in God's name should we care
If they're tortured, anyway?
Fuck Geneva, fuck those who
Stand in the way of our success.
We're doing what we have to do
To make the terrorists confess
Until each one of them's betrayed.
Imperialism has it made.
The only use for torture is
For getting information.
They tortured Him who shielded his
Disciples through the last temptation
(Coming off the cross to take
Up the offers devils make).
Disciples were not ready to
Declare and come to his rescue.
So he died, but you know what?
Tortured, he kept his mouth shut.
You should be with people,
Like I should be with you.
I'm the rock and you're the steeple
Clanging joyful bells that do
The singing as I hold the ground
Steady, while folks gather 'round.
NO WAY OUT
The way things were, they needed
A damnable eternity
To make sure threats were heeded,
Hell was made a certainty
Those dying via suicide,
While masters practiced genocide:
They being of the ruling class,
Can't work 'em, beat 'em, use the gas.
STILL DREAMING AFTER ALL THESE YEARS
Ah, young girls, if they just knew
What happens in an old man's head
When kindly doing things they do
To make an old man feel undead.
She kindly knows he's likely hurting;
The old man likely dreams she's flirting.
And, for sure, reverse is true--
Old women dreaming up dreams, too.
These days it should be for free
If, that is, it's any good.
The issue: private property
Is becoming dying wood.
Copy right? No copy left.
Anything else turns out as theft.
GERIATRIC VERSUS BUSH
Oh man, would I truly love
To start a fight with him.
A fist-fight up from push and shove,
Escalating limb from limb.
I would fight 'til my last breath--
Consider it a worthy death.
Who the fuck you think you are
To think you can't let someone be?
You never seem to care how far
It takes to drive me up a tree.
You won't change and I can tell
Together we will make it hell.
Reasonable doubt the judge defined
For the jury, then excused
Them to deliberate and to find
For guilt or innocence of accused.
The jury, nearly dumb fucks all,
Lets prosecution make the call.